


Why Did It Have to Be You

by itsnotyugoitsyuugo



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Hanahaki Disease, I always change him a bit when I'm writing and I'm not sure if people like my portrayal of him rip, I guess this can be tagged as angst but I'm not very good at writing sad things! hum, Ko's character is a bit off - as per usual with my writing, This will be very short, Unrequited Love, and probably very bad! I'm sorry!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:17:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10040993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotyugoitsyuugo/pseuds/itsnotyugoitsyuugo
Summary: It was his luck again, wasn't it? Every good thing followed something bad.The flowers kept him from doing anything. That boy's name kept pounding in his head and even if his existence encouraged to make relationships with others taboo, it's not like he could stop thinking about him.One last meeting before the grand finale of Monokuma's game. But now how he felt was even more fumbled than before.Nagito never wanted to confess like this.





	1. Chapter 1

“What do you want?” Hajime sat in his chair, hands in his lap. He squinted his eyes, annoyed by the sunlight blearing his vision. He could have been spending his time accomplishing things that were worth his while, like exploring the last island and finding a possible exit from this incessant hell. But he was stuck in the hotel dining area, accompanied by plant leaves stabbing into the back of his neck and the somehow discomforting noise of swishing waves in the distance. There was only one person who would choose this table – the table that would fucking aggravate Hajime the most – out of all the ones in the room.  
  
“Uncomfortable?” Nagito crossed his arms over the table. “I get it. You’re thinking about how much you want to leave. Why spend time with me, out of the six other people who are still aliveo?” the corners of his mouth raised, almost creepily. “I’m surprised you agreed to come.”  
  
Yeah, me too, Hajime wanted to say, but he kept it in. He shifted in his seat to minimize the sunrays blinding him, but when this was futile he figured a little light shielding his view wouldn’t hurt. He didn’t feel comfortable staring at Nagito, making eye contact. They were stuck on Jabberwock for who knows how long, but it still wasn’t enough time to have Hajime decipher the exact thoughts of the guy sitting across from him.  
  
He did know though, it wasn’t safe for him to be alone with Nagito. He still went against asking Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi to sneak along and watch, despite that truth. One reason was because the guys thought similarly as him – they were scared of the things Nagito could do. The other reason (the one impacting his decision more) was he would’ve noticed they tagged along. He had scary intuition, and Hajime didn’t want to test it.  
  
“You always have a purpose when you do something. Don’t tell me we’re on a coffee date or whatever,” Hajime narrowed his eyes. “I’m not buying it.”  
  
“What a waste of time. I wouldn’t want to squander a few minutes of my life drinking caffeine with a Reserve Course boy. Maybe back then, I would have liked that,” he giggled with a hint of derision. “when I didn’t know about your normalcy.”  
  
Hajime couldn’t bring himself to counter. He just wanted to get this over with. If he had one thing to get out of this, it was that Nagito was going to tell him some piece of information he wouldn’t entrust to anyone else. At a later point in the future, he might be able to use whatever he says against him – similar to how Nagito did to everyone else, dissecting their every little action like he was a human analyst. He couldn’t express how badly he wanted to prove himself to Nagito, and to shove it in his hope-obsessed face.  
  
“Ah... speaking of the past. Remember when we first met? You hoisted yourself over me like I was your crutch. You had no one else to rely on but me... me, of all people. But after the first trial, I betrayed your trust. You had to become independent of me,” he lowered his head and smirked. “but to be honest, you never recovered from your initial injury. I’ve still been your crutch and you’re too stubborn to realize it. It’s time for you to face the facts, Hajime.”  
  
He held out one of his hands. “Join me.”  
  
“Join you? For what?” Hajime asked, looking down at the outstretched hand. His eyes trailed up Nagito’s arm and found himself staring straight at him – for some reason the sunlight didn’t encumber him seeing the grim expression on the luckster’s face. No scientific explanation could explain why the room suddenly dimmed – the position of the clouds and sun didn’t move at all. Chills itched his back and his muscles froze. “Wait... are you... are you planning to kill someone?”  
  
Nagito didn’t respond, and kept his hand up.  
  
“You’ve always thought of the craziest shit, but this is the most absurd,” Hajime felt lightheaded. “How can you take the lives of others so lightly? You’ve been treating this as a game the entire time...”  
  
Hajime twitched when Nagito dropped his hand onto the table. He then leaned back in his chair, looking almost repulsed. “I never said anything about killing anybody. You jump to conclusions the second something’s said. Instead of letting your blood pressure talk, stop before you speak,” he pointed at Hajime, “and don’t let your Reserve Course head fog your judgment. I called you here for enlightenment. We can get out of this together if you let me rewire your mind... we can finally be on the same wavelength, like you thought we were before. Except, now it’ll be true.”  
  
His palms felt sweaty. “If you’re trying to tell me something then say it without making it vague and confusing. What do you mean you’re rewiring me? I’m not a robot!”  
  
“Hajime,” Nagito said, louder than he usually spoke, “you’ve been misguided. Think what you will, but believe me when I say I’m not heartless. Despite your corruption, you still have a chance to save yourself. Just accept your stance as a person of no value, someone who’s worth nothing. Admit that you’re undeserving of all the time you’ve been with the Ultimates here. Give in to the greater good, and allow yourself to be a sacrifice to hope. Just cooperate with me.”  
  
“What... what?” Hajime shook his head profusely. “No... I’m not agreeing with any of that crap. Those beliefs of yours cost the lives of our friends!”  
  
“Oh...” Nagito giggled. “You’re assuming things again.”  
  
“You’re the one assuming things,” he sighed, using all his might to prevent himself from lying down on the table in frustration. “I respect how you think, but I don’t condone the things you’ve done because of thinking how you do. I don’t condone them at all. It’s fine to strive for whatever hope you want, but it’s not okay when it’s risking the safety of others. You reduce a human’s worth to the talents they possess and you encouraged us to participate in Monokuma’s sickening murders and trials... it’s all done more harm than good. Is this really what you want? Is this really hope?”  
  
Hajime attempted a handshake out of him this time, reaching out with his own hand. “If we just talk this out, then we can – “  
  
Nagito slapped his hand away, which caught him off guard. “Are you that uneducated? Do you think my brain hasn’t been functioning for the weeks we’ve been here? I know I put others in danger. But does that really matter when hope will sprout from it in the end?” he glared. “You don’t care to listen to what I have to say, right? Why do I even try when you’ve always been like this? I’ve admired you for being for adamant but now this wonderful quality is getting on my darn nerves. You’re such a hypocrite.”  
  
Nagito stood up from his seat, pushing he chair back a few centimeters. “You want the others to empathize with you, but every little bit I sputter is ignored. I know my place in the world, so I deserve respect. But you... and everyone else here... they don’t understand. No one understands."  
  
“Of course, no one understands! You trod off and do whatever you want!” Hajime also stood up, but tensed up to the screeching of his chair when he straightened his legs. “You can’t expect us to be mind readers, and you can’t think of yourself as one either. If you don’t ask us what we want and tell us what you want, we’ll never get along. You’re the one who’s misunderstanding everything. For now, let’s sit down and – “  
  
Nagito stomped his foot against the floor, immediately shutting Hajime up. His face turned a bright pink, and contorted into an angry expression. Hajime felt himself step back. “You’re going to say we should talk about it again. How many times do you think I’ve tried that? I see the look on your face whenever we’re in the same vicinity as each other. You’re disgusted and revolted by my presence. You, you...” his voice cracked, but he went on.  “You’d rather be with a quiet girl like Chiaki, or a, eccentric guy like Kazuichi. But no matter what Nagito you’re with, there’s no way you’d want to be seen with any of them.”  
  
_Why is he..._ Hajime thought, and felt himself shrinking as he continued.  
  
“It’s funny to think you actually trusted me when we met here. No matter if the killings started or not, you would’ve drifted away from me. You’re as obsessed with talent as I am. You would’ve gravitated toward the other Ultimates, leaving me behind. I don’t have anything to write home about. I’m nothing.”  
  
“Are you all stupid? Your thick heads don’t seem to get that I’m the one in the right. You always come to me when it benefits you, but any other time I’m treated like a ghost. Do I look like a heretic? How can you define me with insanity when we had someone like Gundham here?” Nagito spoke faster, his words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall. “Am I that unlikeable? That’s how it is, isn’t it? It’s just so hard to be me, you know? Always being treated like an outsider when you know the one who’s sane is you, and no one else? Man... if Teruteru killed me during the party, would you be more relieved than you are now? I wouldn’t have caused any of your supposed problems. It all would’ve been better without me, if I’m interpreting this all correctly.”  
  
He exhaled deeply and clutched his chest, pulling and wrinkling the fabric of his shirt. He looked away from Hajime and stared at the floor.  
  
Hajime pressed his palm against the side of his neck. He didn’t expect to get into an argument with Nagito, nor did he expect to hear him unload all of what he said. What was Hajime even doing there? Was this planned, or – he couldn’t believe he was inferring this – did Nagito’s emotions get the best of him? At first he was simply going to reject whatever nonsense proposition he had, but now Hajime was clueless. The pressure of his migraine matched how awry Nagito went with his dialogue. Maybe he was different than the rest of them, but Nagito was still a person.  
  
They really needed to talk.  
  
“Nagito, I,” Hajime tried to step around the table to get closer. But a thump interrupted him.  
  
Nagito erupted into a coughing fit, having collapsed onto the floor. He attempted to sit on his knees, but his body strength failed him and he was on his side. Hands cupped around his mouth as he hacked and wheezed – the noise coming from him sounded painful. He shuddered as his spate of coughs subsided, but the light in his eyes faded when he removed his hands from his face. “No... why now...”  
  
There on his palms, dark red blood splattered over and a few small flower petals.


	2. Chapter 2

Nagito's heart pounded in excitement when Monokuma introduced the killing game. The idea of bonding with fifteen of some of the most beautiful individuals in the world made him incredibly elated, but being challenged with a game of life and death was even more enticing. There was no better way to cultivate their hope by forcing them to face despair!  
  
It sounded like something from fiction - they were waiting to be welcomed into Hope's Peak Academy, but were then forced onto a tropical island commandeered by a sentient teddy bear. Perhaps it wasn't the best wasn't the best way to begin their first year. But Nagito still saw the light creeping through.  
  
The killing game was a festivity he was eager for. Knowing his classmates, they were bound to engage in such a miraculous procedure.  
  
And so, he waited.  
  
And waited.  
  
And waited.  
  
But it never happened. The game was treated like a falsity. Like it was never put into place.  
  
They already had a motive: one dead body was the ticket off the island. It was a completely doable task. Why wouldn't anyone take that, over the horrifying prospect of not being able to go home?  
  
But they ignored its existence. It was saddening how they thought pretending would be a probably solution. Unless something happened, the looming terror would never clear.  
  
And Nagito knew that soon enough, something was going to happen. The gap without a murder would come to a close. A nudge was all they needed.  
  
“Nagito, you’re listening, right?” Hajime enunciated louder, annoyed that Nagito wasn't paying attention to what he was saying.  
  
“I was spacing out, my bad,” he apologized. “What were you saying?"

  
"Nothing really... I'm just _having a crisis_. What're we supposed to do to get off of this island? No matter what we do, it feels like we're getting nothing done."  
  
"I agree," Nagito nodded. "Hopefully something we set into motion will produce results."  
  
Hajime put a hand over his head in frustration. He elicited a deep sigh, which made Nagito frown.  
  
Hajime was someone who had always caught his eye from the beginning. The most extraordinary things they have seen were the many robots trying to take over as their "teacher" and the surreal beauty of the islands, but these didn't faze Nagito at all. Hajime was something else altogether.  
  
He couldn't recall his talent. He was prickly and reticent - Nagito had to practically hold his hand so he could take to the others and get his bearings. Comparing him to a child was too fitting, so much that it brought doubt to Hajime's caliber. Like someone who didn't have a talent... someone like Nagito, himself.  
  
But it was a disgusting thought; his greed shoved this ludicrous fantasy down his throat, in hopes of him being able to feel as much worth as someone else.  
  
Nevermind that, Hajime's weaker traits could be of use. While he felt he was undermining him more than he already was, the boy seemed so malleable and easy to sway, so why waste these qualities? He already put his faith in Nagito, so he wouldn't mind the consequences of what was to come.  
  
"There's still a chance the killing game is a farce. There's cameras everywhere! They're probably waiting for us to expose the truth!" Nagito exclaimed. "This could all be a test for the Ultimates to pass. You guys need to plough on through! It shouldn't be too hard of a mystery to solve, I know everyone is capable of doing it."  
  
Hajime glanced at him, and shook his head. "For the past few days you've always said stuff like that to cheer me up. But it's not going to work this time... this is reality. Thanks for trying though."  
  
"Come on, lighten up a bit. Why would our classmates destroy the harmony they've built up for the past few days? If you keep being a pessimist, all that negativity will age you into a grouchy old man."  
  
"Uh? Not necessary."  
  
Hajime put a hand on his cheek to show his legitimate insecurity for the possibility of that statement coming to light, and Nagito laughed.  
  
"But you have to get where I'm coming from. I can't see the good in this situation as well as you can. I... was going to the school of my dreams and now I might not get the chance to experience it. Maybe if I jumped into that ocean with everyone else on our first day, I could have enjoyed one thing..."  
  
Nagito didn't try to reassure him that time. He felt that no matter what he said, Hajime would continue to deflect his words.  
  
They stared over the infinite grains of sand on the beach in silence. They stood under one of the palm trees, where it's shadow encasing them seemed to isolate them from everything else. Nagito snuck a look at Hajime without grabbing his attention. There, he stood a short distance away, with patches of light patterning his face.  
  
“Nagito… let's try our best to get along, okay? It's going to take me a while to… get used to this.”  
  
Nagito was startled by Hajime's sudden speaking up. He thought he was going to be scolded for keeping his eyes on him for too long. Hajime didn't even notice though - he kept looking on at the interminable distance of the horizon.  
  
"Don't worry, I'm here for you." Nagito answered, mentally telling his heart to calm down. 

* * *

  
The first class trial came to a close. Byakuya and Teruteru were dead.  
  
After the execution, the sun already disappeared under the horizon, being replaced by the night sky. Somehow, the world continued to spin on its axis - it was disorienting to know everything went on, while they all still had trouble registering the first murder. All but one was affected by this shock.  
  
_He was a disappointment… and I almost supported him the entire way._ Nagito barely felt a centimeter of remorse when Teruteru underwent his execution. Having hope as weak and flimsy as his was quite the letdown. _But in the afterlife, he doesn't need to worry about his disgrace… with his death, he was able to make the hope of everyone else shine even brighter. I’m excited for what's to come..._ _  
_  
The other students refused to utter a word as they began their traipse back to their rooms. They were paralyzed by the morbid deaths of their two friends. But there wasn’t a reason for them to be that upset. Nagito did his classmates a favor.  
  
While he originally planned for himself to become the murderer, this outcome wasn't so bad either. Him staying alive longer allows him to witness future conflicts of hope and despair, perhaps more riveting than the one that took place moments ago.  
  
As the class walked, Nagito felt something burning into the back of his head. Curious, he turned around to see Hajime directly behind him, alarmingly close.  
  
Nagito felt a rush of jubilance - maybe he was going to be praised for the hard work he put into the trial. Hajime was a sensible person. Not to mention that he took the lead during the class trial, proving that he truly was a capable Ultimate! He was reasonable, he would understand! He wouldn’t turn his back on someone who helped him assimilate to the island. In the end, Hajime would agree with how everything came to be, even if he was astonished at first. An amazing person like him would surely commit to the cause Nagito has been working for his entire life, the one and only purpose that inebriates him with a sense of duty and minuscule worth…  
  
Instead of the adulation Nagito expected, Hajime gave him a cold glare. His hands were closed into fists, shaking, the only thing restraining him from throwing a punch was his dignity.  
  
The two of them stopped walking, while everyone else went ahead. Nagito had to step backwards before he responded, physically feeling the rage emanate from Hajime.  
  
“You seem very… intense. You don't have to conceal your anger for me, you're very easy to read. But I’d like to ask why you're feeling this way? I already explained how my actions were justified.” Nagito put his hands in his pockets, treating the exchange like a normal, every day conversation.  
  
“Don’t pretend you’re brain dead. If it weren't for you, two of us wouldn't be dead… I… don't understand why you'd think that was okay! You’re messed up!”  
  
"Come on, aren't you happy that hope won? Truly, I commend your performance during the class trial - "  
  
"I completely trusted you. And you've shattered that trust… but it wasn't just with your disgusting perception of the killing game. You know damn well what I'm talking about," Hajime's face went in a bright, furious red. "If you got your knife in time, you would've killed the person standing the closest to you. And that person who would've been murdered instead… would've been…”  
  
He couldn't say it. He didn't want to say it.  
  
Nagito drearily smiled. “I’m glad it didn't turn out to be like that, though. I’d think I'd much rather enjoy you being alive than dead.”  
  
Hajime glared, too enraged to say anything else. He gave up responding to Nagito.  
  
He simply turned around and left.

* * *

  
_What am I supposed to do here, all by myself? It’s so boring being stuck in this room…_ Nagito thought to himself, lying on his side on the floor. He couldn't see his hands since they were cuffed behind his back, but he did know his wrists throbbed from the metal chains pressed up tight against his bony limbs. His legs were also tied together with a rope, and he wondered what he was going to do if he needed to go to the bathroom. His kidnappers had no concern for his wellbeing. What if Nagito ended up dying there? It would be a waste to spend a class trial on an accidental murder born of blind hatred.  
  
_I’m missing out on what everyone else is doing. What if something exciting takes place and I’m not there to see it?_ _  
_  
He turned to a supine position, the side of his head hitting the tray he forgot was next to him. He didn't touch his food, save for small nibbles on his toast. He gave up pecking at his food like a bird - his drink would have toppled over sooner or later.  
  
He sighed. _I can't believe he left. Some company would’ve been nice. And my meal wouldn’t have been wasted if I had someone to help me…_ _  
_  
The chains jutted into his back - and despite wearing a jacket the icy metal still pierced through.  
  
Exhaling, he turned to his other side and faced the food tray. He was almost startled by the faint reflection of himself in the glass of his drink.  
  
A pitiful face, it was.

* * *

  
The second trial passed. Peko and Mahiru were dead. Fuyuhiko was gravely injured from his accidental involvement with Peko’s execution, but was patched up and healed not too long afterward.  
  
Nagito was freed from his shackles during the investigation. Being able to walk was much better than having to reposition himself constantly on the floor. He had Monomi to thank for that - no one else would have come to get him. Not even to tell him that another one of their classmates died.  
  
The students proceeded with their days normally, feigning indifference to the killing game once more. This was the second time, and it was bound to become routine. The death toll slowly crept up, but they couldn't do anything about this ever increasing number but to keep on living.  
  
Despite others moving on to the third island, Nagito couldn't sever his fixation on the library from the second island. He was always fond of reading and had a plethora of material to choose from. He was going to be alone, but it was a comfortable kind of alone - one of respite. He was never truly alone among books. They had their own character that made them come to life.  
  
It would have been peaceful. It would have.  
  
Hajime pulled up the seat across from Nagito and sat down. Nagito watched him from the moment the door opened, and forgot what his book was about. His fingers splayed across the pages in a way that didn't indicate where he left off. He was trying to read something else - someone else.  
  
“I wonder what sort of motive Monokuma is going to prepare this time?” Nagito said, tapping his fingers on his book. He imagined Hajime wanted to chat about something related to the game.  
  
“Um,” his hands were clasped together as he considered what he was going to say. “Let's hang out. And talk about something else.”  
  
“I’m so blessed to hear you say that to me… you, with that look of hatred on your face? Hang out with me? It’s like I’ve starred in a fairy tale.”  
  
Nagito laughed, while Hajime furrowed his brows.  
  
They began their exchange, though from an outside point of view it would've seemed like Nagito was having fun from toying with Hajime. They talked about hope, and Nagito began to ramble on and on. Hajime reacted with a mixture of confusion and understanding. How could someone talk about "hope" for so long? But the person in question was Nagito.  
  
But for what reason was Hajime willingly doing this to himself? Maybe it was an anomaly - an event that would only happen once.  
  
Yet, Hajime repeated his poor magician act of hiding his discomfort in front of Nagito every time he came back. Those times were aplenty.  
  
As they spent more time with each other through, something between them changed. They continued to clash throughout their stay on the island - they did have some semblance of a rivalry, which they both acknowledged. But they didn't have a complete wall of opposition that separated them from being a little acquainted.  
  
He became more comfortable with Nagito - no more messy speaking or nervous body language. While the two of them would never be able to revert to how they were before Nagito’s true colors were revealed, there was still something. Nagito couldn't find a sound definition for their relationship - a description that made sense to him - but it was only an impossible scavenger hunt.  
  
“You do know,” Nagito said to him once, with a hint of derision, “that you don't have to make friendly with everyone on the island. Monomi’s friendship game is nil because of Monokuma.”  
  
“You're thinking I'm doing this to complete some… requirement?” Hajime shook his head. “You’re someone who can’t be left alone. I can't imagine what you'd try to do if someone wasn't watching you.”

_Watching someone didn't mean you had to speak to them_ , he wanted to say back.  
  
There was one thing Nagito was fully sure of about this situation - though, he kept deprecating himself for this. He enjoyed the company. Hajime made him tell stories he would never say to anyone else, because no one ever asked except him. His memories could exist for someone else other than himself; maybe he wouldn't be such a waste of space. Because of this though, he made himself want to believe that Hajime coming to him wasn't due wanting to keep an eye on him. He didn't want the conversations between them to be superficial. If he hoped hard enough, would it turn out to be that Hajime wanted to pay attention to him?  
  
Nagito observed the oddest little things. Hajime was the only one willing to go out of his way and sacrifice his own time to be with him. He was sociable when he needed to be, but he always interacted with Nagito, even in the smallest of ways. Hajime was getting along well with his other classmates, so there was no justifying this with loneliness. Nagito was the lonely one, with only Hajime taking the extra hop and skip toward him.  
  
On occasion, he was given gifts. It was customary on Jabberwock to trade trinkets and curios with each other as an attempt to revitalize Monomi's original plan of a fun field trip to form friendships, but every bubble that rolled out of the MonoMono Machines concealed the most outrageous, questionable objects. Nevertheless, they still used their allowances to make purchases since it was a harmless practice. He only got things from Hajime.  
  
Hajime said being with him was a liability, but there was something whispering in his ear a caustic evil, trying to make him believe there was a much greater reason than superficiality.  
  
But it was a rash judgment. And he shouldn't let any feelings get in the way of his goals. He wouldn't falter, he wouldn't be convinced. There was no way that was true. There was no way Hajime stayed with him because he wanted to.  
  
Whatever the true reason was… all of this thinking tired Nagito.

* * *

  
Nagito sat on the edge of his bed, hands grasping the sheets harshly like they were being choked. His sweat soaked through his shirt and trespassed the fabric of his jacket. There was a weird, pit-like feeling in his stomach, but his head stirred, thoughts being whisked and mushed together. He didn't pay mind to any of these things.  
  
He whipped his hands up over his mouth and coughed, head pounding with every lurch forward. His palms were covered by mucus, and wiped it off on his pants. It didn't matter to him.  
  
He couldn't recall what happened next. His memory punctured itself, leaving a hole where his cognizance lied.  
  
He ended up on the floor of the eating area, with his classmates surrounding him. He was taken to the hospital.

* * *

  
“Check up time, Nagito!” Mikan walked into his hospital room. She dragged a chair beside his bed and sat down. “I-I hope I'm not disrupting your recover. I need to write down some things on your report, and then I want you to go to sleep… okay?”  
  
“Please, take your time,” Nagito smiled. “With your skill, I’ll be even more than healed. My vitality will be increased ten-fold!”  
  
Mikan took a clipboard from the counter along the wall, and began jotting down notes. “I-I know you're lying. It hurts! Ibuki and Akane are a bit easier to treat. Y-you probably want me to leave right away since I'm so detestable, right? Don't worry, I’ll be done soon!”  
  
She continued to speak. “Y-you know, I saw Hajime leave. He didn't look too happy… you must've said something nasty to him. But you couldn't have controlled it. Doesn't it hurt to be left alone?”  
  
Nagito breathed in sharply with what she said next.  
  
“H-he might not like you since you said those things to him.”  
  
Nagito trembled, and beat his fists against his stomach on impulse. His mouth opened as wide as it could, choking, trying to push out the barricade in his throat. He felt his stomach bubble, and the reaction forced the blockage out, sputtering over his chest and bed.  
  
Drool ran down his mouth, and his blankets and sheets stained with red dots.  
  
His vision blurred with tears. He was still able to make out the fuzzy shape of Mikan’s arm though, which came closer to him. He felt her fingers brush against his chest, she picking up something he could barely make out. It was small and white.  
  
“W-what’s this?” Mikan studied the object. “Don’t tell me…”  
  
Nagito wanted to speak out and admonish her for not responding like an actual nurse would - instead of getting a rag to wipe his mouth or assessing his condition, she inspected whatever was in her hand. But his throat stung, and all he could do was wait for his sight to clear up.  
  
Mikan gasped. “Nagito! You really are lucky… being a liar isn't the only despair inducing symptom you have…”  
  
She stood up quickly. “Oh! This is bad… I h-have to change out your sheets… and maybe your hospital gown too… we wouldn't want anyone to see this, right? I can keep a secret,” she kept giggling like she was in drunken stupor.  
  
She leaned over Nagito and picked up some more similarly shaped white objects - some were partially red. Was that… blood?  
  
She then gathered up a small pile in her hands and went to the trash can to throw it away. Before she buried them under the masses of plastic gloves and empty boxes in the bin, Nagito blinked to push the tears out of his eyes. His chest tightened at the sight.  
  
Flower petals.  
  
After disposing of the petals, Mikan got a clean rag and sat next to him again, smiling with a tinge of iniquity. “I’ll let you decide if you want to tell anyone about this… e-either way, it’ll bring despair… I’m sure of it…”  
  
Nagito stared at nothing as she wiped the mess off of his mouth.  
  
He felt clueless.

* * *

  
The third trial was over. Hiyoko, Ibuki, and Mikan were dead. Two out of the four students infected with diseases were cured; the other two didn't need recovery since they weren't alive anymore.  
  
Nagito and Hajime sat on a bench at the central island, in front of the huge statue with its mysterious countdown. Aside from the menacing clock ticking away, this particular island gave off a casual atmosphere. Its appearance was more vernal and lacked the palm trees, vibrant attractions, and sandy pathways on the other islands. Not many of the other students went there because of this. There weren't as many attractions as the other islands.

  
“Stop looking at me like that,” Nagito said. “The scenery is a finer sight than I am.”  
  
It was out of the corner of his eye, but Nagito could still feel Hajime staring. Hajime winced at what he said and looked in a different direction.  
  
That boy was always never upfront about everything. But hiding how he felt was futile when it came to Nagito - he knew Hajime. It wasn't hard to find out what he was thinking.  
  
Nagito found it endearing - their nurse was gone and he was trying to fill in for her. Even if the medical area may have not been his area of expertise (which is not entirely impossible due to his unknown talent), Hajime felt the need to supplant the blank space. Clearly, the constant looks Hajime gave him proved this.  
  
It wasn't just that that made Nagito appreciate him. Their numbers dwindled from sixteen to nine, the quicksand of Jabberwock’s despair pulling each survivor down lower and lower. But Hajime was strong. While he was also affected by fright, he tried not to falter from a calm disposition. He dealt with everything realistically now. Compared to who he was at the beginning of the trip, he has grown so much.  
  
“Okay,” Nagito spoke up to break the tension. “If we’re going to sit here and do nothing, we might as well do that.”  
  
“A-alright,” Hajime sat up straighter.  
  
It was a game they liked to play - it was odd, but it worked as a time waster. The origin of it came from one of the first times they spent together, before the killing began, when Nagito jokingly named off a few of Hajime’s possible talents to lighten the mood. If they had nothing else to talk about, they would name off different skills and traits Hajime could have… with justification, of course. And if a certain talent clicked with him, they would assume that was what he was “Ultimate” in.  
  
“You could be the Ultimate Forgetful Boy,” Nagito suggested. "That could be the reason why you don't remember your talent. Pretty ironic, right?"  
  
“Aside from forgetting that, I don't think my memory is that bad. That talent sounds... unoriginal, anyway."  
  
“How about the Ultimate Student? You’re very smart, and I wouldn't be surprised if you turned out to be perfect in all levels of academics.”  
  
"Hmm…”  
  
“The Ultimate Romantic? You can't deny some of the looks people give you here. Rumor has it that you’re quite the stud.”  
  
“That sounds so… no, just no. Be serious here.”  
  
“Ah, an excellent idea popped into my head. You are the Ultimate Proctologist! We can both agree that you hate it when people have their heads up their asses. Thus, you're none other than the best of butt doctors.”  
  
Hajime looked at Nagito for a second, and covered his mouth before he could laugh. “Ugh, very funny."  
  
They continued a while longer, but soon the responses ceased. They slumped on the bench, like their bodies were physically taxed by the discussion.  
  
Hajime sighed. “Nothing. None of them feel right.”  
  
“There's an unlimited amount of talents. You just haven't found yours yet… don't worry about it too much.”  
  
“And what if it ends up being lost forever? How come it had to be me - how come I had to forget my talent? If I never remember, I might as well be useles - ”  
  
Nagito looked at him, surprised at how hurt he was because of his statement. They stared for a moment, before Hajime whipped his head in the other direction, like he felt insulted for being sensitive in front of Nagito, of all people.  
  
“Hajime, we just have to keep trying, even if it sounds hard. Everyone has a reason for being good at their talents. The cause doesn't have to be a massive cataclysmic event… it could be anything! It’s not like you got bitten by a bug and got a talent because of it. We should try a different approach… we need to broaden out perspective on the subject. Maybe there's… patterns, certain things you did that might relate to your talent. Hope’s Peak has a broad range of what can be considered a talent, so we can get creative and figure out a range of options!” Nagito smiled. "I just want you to realize that you shouldn't look at things so bleakly… not yet, anyways. And even if you give up on trying to figure out your talent… I’ll still look for it, because I know it's important to you. I'd do anything for you Ultimates, because I love you all dearly.”  
  
“That's… nice of you to say that,” Hajime stated, but Nagito kept going on.  
  
“Don't be sad. Even if you don't remember your talent, you know you have one, and that's all that matters. You're an already amazing person and there's no erasing that. Why would you even be here among all the other Ultimates if you weren't like them? Ah… but that obviously excludes me. I truly have no talent… but you’re simply a wonder.”  
  
“Are you sure? Even if I think about it right now,” Hajime put a hand on the side of his head. “My life was really boring before I came here. Before I was selected to come to Hope’s Peak Academy… I don't know anything significant enough that would make me remember something I’m really good at.”  
  
“I wouldn't lie to you. That would be blasphemous! There has to be something.”  
  
A moment of silence, before Hajime cleared his throat. “I… wow. I really... needed that."  
  
“Of course. I’m sure you would've liked someone else to say that to you. Sorry this came up at an unopportune time.”  
  
“No, that's not what I meant… like,” Hajime scratched his head. “Maybe you're not that bad a person after all?"  
  
“Mm... As much as I’d like to that compliment, I’m going to have to cut you short. I feel… a sudden wave of tiredness. Goodbye.”  
  
Nagito suddenly got up, and walked away.  
  
Hajime was left there confused, but he took it as Nagito being weird again. He got frustrated because he found it rude he couldn't take a compliment, and considered rescinding the comment because he was still on edge by Nagito.  
  
Regardless of Hajime's annoyance, he soon forgot about it. There were other things to worry about that that guy.  
  
Nagito, on the other hand...  
  
_Badump, badump._ _  
_  
His hands grabbed at his shirt, fingers curling, wrinkling the material. His palate tasted metallic and his head was burning. He briskly made his way to his room - he didn't want to collapse and faint in front of anyone, nor did he want anyone to know his secret.  
  
Along the way he covered his mouth with his arm, and soon the geometric shapes on his jacket wasn't the only red design splattered on it.

* * *

  
“Hajime, let's play some games today,” Chiaki said while holding a spoon with oatmeal in her mouth.  
  
“Sure?” He shrugged. “But you're going to beat me every single time. Again.”  
  
“You two need to play somethin’ other than video games! Let's play sports! Let's build some muscle!” Akane passionately exclaimed in between her bites. “We can take down the Monobeasts that way!”  
  
“I second that!” Nekomaru agreed.  
  
“Dividing yourselves into factions for the sake of kicking globular rubber into stringed lattice is nonsense I would rather not associate with,” Gundham declared. “Unless… they want to participate.”  
  
His pets - or Dark Devas of Destruction - began hitting crumbs of their food at each other, simulating a game of kickball.  
  
Sonia squealed and clapped as she watched. “Oh, yes! I would love for them to partake!”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Kazuichi sneered, looking at Gundham for a second, but then directed his discontent to the hamsters. “I’ll take them on, then!”  
  
The hamsters stared up at him, but then Cham-P, the chubbiest one, with all its might, kicked a crumb into Kazuichi’s eye!  
  
“The Four Dark Devas of Destruction will not be daunted by a declaration of war!” Gundham announced, slamming his fist on the table.  
  
“Why, you!” Kazuichi sprung out of his seat, but almost instantaneously sat back down, prompted by the glare of disapproval from Sonia.  
  
"I can't believe you guys..." Fuyuhiko sighed. "You're wasting our food!"  
  
"Shit, he's right!" Akane reached her arms around her plate - which towered with breakfast foods - and pulled it toward herself. "Those hamsters better not touch any of mine!"  
  
Laughs rang throughout the room - except from Chiaki. More banter was exchanged about their plans for the day, but she seemed disappointed in the direction everything went.  
  
She sighed. “Does that mean we're not going to play games today?”  
  
“It's not bad to try something else for once,” Hajime reassured her. “Besides, we can always play games some other day."  
  
Her face lit up, and she looked at Hajime. "Really?"  
  
"Um, yeah?"  
  
"What a relief!"  
  
He was surprised at how dramatic she became, but it was understandable since she the Ultimate Gamer. She probably couldn't stand not playing games all the time. He moved his chair closer to her so he could watch her play on her little device.  
  
The pleasant atmosphere was broken by a series of horrible coughs and gagging noises - everyone turned their heads to see that it was Nagito causing the ruckus.  
  
"Is he choking on something?" Nekomaru shot up from his seat and quickly ran over to him, with Akane quickly following suit.  
  
"There he goes, ruining the atmosphere even more," Kazuichi mumbled as he rubbed his eye.  
  
"Even if it's Nagito, you shouldn't say that!" Sonia admonished him, he yelping in response.  
  
They found it odd that his throat wasn't clogged up by anything, after his coughs subsided. He explained that he was susceptible to sickness because he was somewhat malnourished, but assured them that it shouldn't be something to be alarmed about.  
  
While they were completely clueless about whatever the heck was wrong with him, he was slowly catching on.

* * *

  
Nagito skimmed the pages of his book. He grew more frustrated with each page he turned, impatient. He loathed not knowing. How could he manipulate the stage when he wasn't in aware of what was going on behind the scenes?  
  
Mikan knew something. If she wasn't infected by that forsaken Despair Disease, maybe she would have told him what was going on. He thought the pains his body had was a symptom of his own disease, but it stayed with him, even if Monokuma said he was cured of his ailment. The bear was a crafty one, but he stuck to his rules and wouldn't let one of the students die unless it was from a murder.  
  
But then - he almost ripped out a page when he came across across a haunting image: a person hunched over, flowers erupting from their mouth. Their hands struggled to cover the petals; it was like the person was ashamed of them. The picture was black and white, but the liquid pouring down their chin and trickling down their arms could be nothing other than blood.  
  
“The… Hanahaki Disease…” he read.  
  
His finger glided over the page next to the picture, his breaths becoming shorter as he registered the horrible truths his body was going under.  
  
He whispered to himself, voice cracking, “the Hanahaki Disease… is an illness born from unrequited love. Those who suffer from the disease will cough and throw up flower petals. One can die from blocked airways, restricting one from respiration. The disease can be cured through a careful surgical process removing all presence of flower petals within the patient’s body. Doing so, however, will revoke all romantic feelings for the person they love.”  
  
He then noticed his face was too close to the book, and leaned back in his chair. He was grimacing at the fantastical description. “Is this a joke? Should I be laughing?”  
  
He flipped the book to its front cover - he thought he mistakenly picked up a book on fairy tales, but the cover confirms its contents were on diseases.  
  
What he read was too inane to be real. It couldn't be. No one would believe something like the Hanahaki Disease would exist. There had to be a more logical explanation - maybe Monokuma forgot to heal a portion of his disease. The book had to be a prank.  
  
But he opened back up to the page with that farce of a disease. His eyes were drawn to two words.  
  
Unrequited love.  
  
“Hm. There's no way I have this disease,” he smirked. “I wouldn't fall in love with anyone anyway.”  
  
_You’re in denial. You’re like this when things don't go your way, admit it._ _  
_  
“If I did, it’d end up in tragedy,” one of his hands went to his neck, his threat beginning to itch. “No one would ever return my affections.”  
  
He felt bubbling in his stomach.  
  
“I wouldn't put myself under such a hellish thing. It would be a distraction.”  
  
_A distraction you willingly let control your actions._ _  
_  
“I… I don't… I would never...”

_You would. You did._

He hung over the table and coughed, spots of blood sputtering onto the wood and the pages of the book. A disgusting mix of blood and saliva dropped off his chin, vandalizing the area further with his filth. With it all came a flood of flower petals, which sprinkled on top, like a vulgar decoration. It looked like a massacre.  
  
Merely staring at the mess sent a reaction through his body. He swung himself away from the table and regurgitated onto the floor. The insides of his body fizzed, and he hugged himself tightly to try to cancel out the pain. More flower petals littered onto the floor, almost enough to make an entire bouquet. It smelled horrible - his blood and vomit swirled into one intoxicating scent.  
  
And soon enough, his body stopped itself from torturing him.  
  
He stared at the horrible mess he made.  
  
This was the logic he was waiting for.  
  
He remembered their laugh, a melody they reserved for everyone else but him. How they had a prickly disposition on the outside, but was truly kind within. How their plain but beautiful appearance enchanted him. How adorably frustrated they got when Nagito toyed with them. How any mundane quality he told him about in the past made him smile. How courageous they were for being able to stand up against despair, to set an example for everyone else here, despite they being scared all the same.  
  
It was Hajime Hinata.  
  
He loved Hajime Hinata.  
  
“I have to… clean this up,” Nagito said, almost inaudible. “No one should see something so unsightly.”

* * *

  
Humans can survive about three weeks without food.  
  
It only took a couple of days to drive one teenagers in an enclosed environment to the brink of starvation. Hollow and lifeless their bodies became, losing the energetic personalities the students once had. The athletically inclined grew weak, and the less fit were made fragile. They weren't malnourished enough for their bodies to undergo any major changes, but with the walls and furniture themed as pears and strawberries, if everyone stayed in the funhouses even longer, the temptation would lead at least one of them to eat the decor.  
  
They tried to conserve their energy by limiting their activities, but Monokuma's ridiculous training regimens didn't help at all. They would continue to limp around the buildings unless one of two things happen: they all died, or one would have to murder.  
  
The "fun" in the fun houses was for whoever masterminded the game. Sickening.  
  
It was a minor concern, but it made him frustrated nonetheless that he couldn't use the playground equipment. He was too, too tired. But maybe it was good that he couldn't - he would have been seen like a child to the others... even more so. They already didn't take him seriously, unless he directly provoked them.  
  
Nagito’s stomach strained – sure, the Hanahaki plaguing him distressed his body, but it was only a parasite that drained him periodically. It's effects doubled over with his hunger though? Thanks to his luck, his room was soundproof so no one would be able to hear him coughing.  
  
Worst of all, Nagito would have loved to encourage the others to commit a murder - the Final Dead Room was bait dangling right in front of them - but even he lost the drive to do so. If only he had energy.  
  
He was trying to think of ways he could make himself useful, as the funhouse greatly limited the amount of action he was able to take. If he couldn't formulate anything in time, what would become of the Ultimates? Were they going to end up dead? If no one truly didn't feel the need to take up the noble cause of sacrificing themselves and another life, then he might decide to take up this task once more - but at the same time he believed in his classmates, and he was sure at least one of them would think about enacting a murder.  
  
The days continued. Nothing.  
  
Nothing at all.  
  
Nagito's brain function slowed down to the point of not being able to keep track of the days they were stuck in there. Even if he chalked lines on his wall according to the time they stayed in there, he probably wouldn't be cognitively aware enough to accomplish it.  
  
He was so out of his head, on one of those days he decided to sit himself on one of the playground swings. He didn't rock back and forth, he only sat, inert.  
  
Footsteps.  
  
He looked to his right, where another empty swing was supposed to be. Instead was Hajime. He was probably so lethargic that he couldn't bother to be disgusted by the fact he was sitting next to a person like Nagito.  
  
Nagito opened his mouth to say something snarky to him, but he couldn't utter the smallest noise. His throat was dry, he couldn't speak.  
  
It was probably the same for Hajime. He didn't muster any complaints, like he usually would have.  
  
They were just too tired.  
  
They sat in silence.  
  
Nagito's grip on the ropes of the swing tightened.  
  
This was the predicament he was in.  
  
Never could he imagine to speak a word about his affection for Hajime. His mouth was shut, as if tape bound it, or if the dryness of his throws prevented him from saying anything.  
  
The silence between them reminded him of the peril the Hanahaki Disease gave him. That damned disease.  
  
He shook in his seat, but Hajime didn't seem to notice.  
  
You’re going to die before you’re able to tell him. With all the blood you’re losing, there's no way you can go on any longer.  
  
You have to decide now. Is it more painful to keep the secret and perish before you say anything, or to get rid of the disease and forget the feelings you have for this boy?  
  
You can be freed from peril with a simple choice.  
  
You’re used to losing things anyway, so either way shouldn't be a problem, right? Could he really go through with either choice?  
  
He already knew his love was unrequited, so he would die from heartbreak if he was rejected. Confessing was a decision out of the question.  
  
He would need to accomplish all he could before he dies of blood loss. Or he would have to get a surgical removal of the disease.  
  
Why was he forced to make this choice?  
  
Why did he have to fall in love?  
  
Couldn't this have been another cutesy high school romance? If death wasn't a factor, he wouldn't need to worry at all.  
  
Nagito got up from his swing and walked back to his room. He didn't look back at Hajime.

* * *

  
It was for the sake of the investigation.  
  
Nagito entered that forsaken Final Dead Room. Who else could do it but him? It was the only way to find out the culprit. And whoever that was, Nagito was astounded they were able to make it through. The puzzle was one thing - virtually anyone should be able to figure it out, no matter what their intellect was. He was proud of whoever was able to successfully survive Russian Roulette - it shows how they didn't even need luck to be able to accomplish it. Nagito had to rely on his luck to be able to do anything - his existence depended on something else, while the Ultimates were able to accomplish things because of their own skill.  
  
Not only was he going to provide vital information for the class trial, but Monokuma also left these hefty documents with Nagito, which were about Hope's Peak Academy. He felt like a champion, for the first time in a long while. It was all thanks to the fun house depriving him from everything that he was able to experience something like this.  
  
But there was another motive in mind.  
  
After Nagito searched every nook and cranny of the octagon and revealed the secrets necessary to convict the murderer, he sat himself down on the floor to investigate the documents.  
  
He felt his stomach lurch as his fingers padded against the cover of the book. You can make him proud with whatever information you find in here.  
  
The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. And maybe he'll return your feelings... and... the disease will...  
  
He flipped through the pages of the book, and he landed on the profile of the boy he had in mind.  
  
His chest was tightening in delight, he was ecstatic to impress him. He skimmed over the words over the profile, and his heart pounded faster, and faster...  
  
In terror.  
  
He couldn't believe what he saw. He would rather have taken one of the weapons in the room and stabbed his eyes - all the physical pain possible would never amount  to the distress stemming from the book.  
  
He moved on from the profiles of the students... and came upon even worse things.  
  
He threw the book away and held his throat. The floor became an odorous potpourri.

* * *

 

The fourth class trial ended. Nekomaru and Gundham were dead. They deserted the funhouse.  
  
There, Nagito also left behind his idolization of his classmates. No longer could he call them embodiments of absolute good.  
  
In truth, they were harbingers of despair. The lot of them were despicable people. But/And it was unnerving to watch them smile, laugh, cry, get angry, for them to show a spectrum of humanity. To see them use their talents in helpful and useless ways, any of which bringing some kind of happiness, and pure joy. Their true identities were hidden under this farce, and none of them knew about it.  
  
None of them but him.  
  
He found himself becoming more hostile toward them. Before, his threats relied on his words, and he was chained to a desolate building with minimal food. Now he had power - he was a large enough threat that they couldn't do anything to touch him. Most of them gave up on searching for him whenever he was absent, and he appeared to them when he felt was necessary.  
  
The end was in sight, with the number of students down from sixteen to seven. The mysterious timer on the central island seemed to be running out of time, ticking down to who knows what. He couldn't wait, he had to initiate.  
  
He was consumed with ridiculous fantasies - he believed he would be a holy figure to them. While he would be hated in life, after he finishes his lines of action, he will finally be appreciated for the work he had done.  
  
He made preparations to set his plan into motion.  
  
But then the wheels stopped turning.  
  
Nagito hugged his legs to his chest as he laid on his bed. The tropical weather never fazed him but that night he shed his jacket and had his sheets thrown on the floor. He was anxious.  
  
The bottle of poison rested in his refrigerator and the spear hid itself in his mattress. He settled everything, his course of action clear in his mind. He was going to induct an impossible murder, where all guilty parties would perish. All except the one they dubbed the "traitor," though this was a misnomer. This traitor was the only one who didn't permeate any evil.  
  
None of the prior trials were battles between hope and despair. No matter what resulted, in the end it was always despair. But for this final trial, once and for all, it would end in hope. At last, a winner would spring forth.  
  
But he did nothing. For goodness sake, he never planted the bomb in the common area to frighten the others, it was still hidden away in his dresser. No one was stopping him. His plan was going to be a sure fire success - his luck paved the path to victory, and he would finally lay down his life for the one and only thing that vitalized him.  
  
Though, he was hesitant. One distraction was leading him astray.  
  
That disease. It was always that disease.  
  
But he really shouldn't blame the disease itself - it didn't suddenly come into existence to torment him with its free will.  
  
It was Hajime's fault.  
  
It was his fault that he was nice.  
  
It was his fault that he was able to blend in with the other Ultimates, managing to trick everyone into thinking he was just as worthy as they were.  
  
It was his fault that his charisma reached around to every single person on the island, regardless of their personality.

It was his fault that Nagito fell in love with him, in such a short amount of time. Who would fall in love with someone in midst of a killing game?  
  
What was he thinking, back then? Did he have to expose so much of his secrets to Hajime? All the time Hajime spent with him was worthless, amounting to nothing. He had bonded with this boy to a certain extent, and it was only to find out that anything more between them would be impossible.  
  
He knew long before that the prospect of them being together was impossible. Hajime paid no affectionate attention to him. But the impossibility raised - it was one thing to be in love in an Ultimate, someone who was above, and beyond. It was like a child's idolization of an idol. But it was something else, loving someone who didn't deserve the respect. It was an insult, comparable to a tragedy between a royal and a peasant.  
  
If Nagito was a page being torn out, Hajime was the lengthy novel, only losing a tiny portion of what made him whole. If Nagito wasn't a part of his story, so be it. It was only necessary for him to be a background character, none of him mattered to Hajime's overall narrative.  
Above all, letting hope spring forth should be the priority. Anything else - regardless of whether it made him happy or not - was insignificant. He was merely a tool, used to build that scaffolding that would hold up the absolute good.  
  
And he would have continued going on, limiting any interaction he made with Hajime. Long distance is a serial murderer - it kills love without fail.  
  
Yet he still coughed and coughed.  
  
Despite him not having a talent, Nagito still gave him too much clemency. He somehow didn't fault Hajime for his extreme density - he unknowingly manipulated Nagito into giving up his heart for him. He forgave Hajime for the things he had done to him. It was so foolish. If Hajime did have a talent, it would have been the Ultimate Nuisance. Pestilence. For all he's done to him.  
  
It's not like he could stop his affection altogether. He fell in love in such a short amount of time, yet it felt so genuine. It wasn't like he could stop the surge of emotion.  
  
With the amount of blood he was losing, he's startled that he was able to stay alive for this long. Could it be his luck?  
  
His death would be meaningless if he died for somebody like Hajime; he'd rather die for hope. Whether he went through his plan or not, he knew he was going to die. But which was more proper?  
  
It was just one little thing - one little thing that bothered him about Hajime. If he could admit how truly useless he was, maybe he could fathom having feelings for him without hatred.  
  
"Is that so?" Nagito said to himself, as he let that thought fly through his head.  
  
He stood up from his bed and walked to his desk. He grabbed a loose sheet of paper and a pencil and began writing. His handwriting was atrocious, but the words he scrawled onto the sheet would get his message across.  
  
"I can change his heart," he exclaimed. "He knows the principles I believe in. He understands them. Indoctrination has to be the answer."  
  
No more postponing. He wasn't going to let himself fall prey to this idiotic disease. He was going to settle this at once. He was above this.  
  
Either way, he knew he was going to die, whether the plan was engaged or not. But thinking about whether he'd rather die alone, or die knowing that the person he loved would be by his side... he knew which he would take.  
  
Next morning, he convinced Hajime to meet with him. They sat across from each other, accompanied by the terror of uncertainty that weighed down on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one year ago said I would get this done in a few days and BOY WAS I WRONG
> 
> so... I went through a really bad depressive state at the time I posted the first chapter, and while I wanted to continue this, it completely slipped my mind, and became something I forgot about. I didn't have the drive to write for a long while. 
> 
> there were very nice comments on my previous chapter that came by occassionally, which tugged at me to tell me to go on with this story. over the course of a few months I began working on this a little, when I had the time. somehow I managed to finish this darn long chapter!
> 
> I'm sorry if anyone who was expecting a next chapter quickly had to wait, or might not even be here to see this addition, because I took so long. I slated this chapter to be lengthy, but I didn't expect my mental health to get in the way as much as it did, which thus lengthened the time it took for me to write this. if people are truly interested in me finishing this, then I may work on chapter 3 (and it certainly won't take me over a year to get it out!)
> 
> so. sorry if parts are ooc and written bad, I don't know what I'm doing half the time when I write tbh, but um
> 
> really. thanks for reading, comments and criticism is appreciated, and have a nice day! :>


	3. Chapter 3

Hajime came back to the table with paper towels jumbled up in his fist and a glass half-full of water. He held the glass out to Nagito, who he had helped settle back into his chair after his collapse.  
  
"Don't drink it, just gargle - "

"I think I'd know that much."  
  
Nagito took in all the water in his mouth and swished it around for a few seconds. He spat it back into the glass, having dyed the liquid a slight red. It was faint, but a metallic smell wafted in the air. The white, silky appearance of those things that settled themselves in the water couldn't belong to anything else but a flower petal, those having flowed out from his mouth as well.  
  
Hajime offered the paper towels so he could wipe the saliva off from his mouth, but before he could hand them over, Nagito wiped the bottom half of his face with his jacket sleeve. His chin and mouth were still stained a subtle pink.  
  
Nagito spoke in a rather annoyed tone. "You didn't have to do that."  
  
Hajime shoved the paper towels onto the table. "Did you expect me to do nothing after what I just saw?"  
  
"My physical infirmities shouldn't be the subject of interest as of now. We came here to discuss my invitation for you," he turned away from Hajime, looking out at the landscape of the island. "You've said no already... but I'm stubborn. What else can I do to convince you?"  
  
_Why is that the more pressing thing to you?_ Hajime stared down at the glass, with its contaminated mixture sitting inside.  
  
Nagito was so despondent when he tried to help him, it was aggravating. It was like the blood wiped on his sleeve wasn’t there at all. He didn’t express a smidgeon of interest about his own wellbeing. What was with that entire speech he made of complaining about the attention no one paid him?  
  
_Don’t tell me... his entire spiel was about not listening to him praising hope, and not about being friendly to him? What the actual fuck is wrong with him?_ _  
  
_ Hajime couldn't believe there came to be a day where he was frustrated that Nagito wouldn't respond back to him, especially when he was so used to blindfolding all of his senses around him.

"How about this," Hajime raised his voice. "If you tell me about what just happened, I'll do whatever you want me to."  
  
Nagito shifted his gaze back to Hajime, happily clapping at his proposal. But it wasn't because he was going to accept the offer.  
  
“Wow! Your beliefs will suddenly align with mine if I tell you about that stupid glass of liquid I spat into?” he dropped his smile and lowered his eyes. “I don’t want to coerce you into doing anything. You shouldn’t say you’re going to make dangerous trade-offs if you’re not going to go through with them. I want you to be convinced that my principles are right. Half-hearted teamwork is the worst.”  
  
“Ugh, that’s not the point! I never cared about that shitty plan in the first place! The only reason why I decided to come here was because I was suspicious about what the hell was up with you. And I've learned that you're sick!”  
  
Nagito huffed. "Based on how I've been treated by everyone, I don't need verbal affirmation on what you think of me."  
  
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Hajime pushed the glass on the table closer to Nagito, making the petals swirl in the liquid. “This is what I’m talking about!”  
  
Nagito placed his finger tips over the rim of the glass, about to slide it away from him. “Could you drain this? It’s an utter eyesore to look at.”  
  
Hajime wrapped his hand around the glass and kept it positioned in front of Nagito’s chest. “No. Can’t we just take a second and look at this thing? Your life isn’t only about hope and despair. It’s this too. But you keep neglected yourself in order to enact whatever thing you're planning to do... for some pointless four-lettered concept!"  
  
“Pointless? It isn’t pointless. And I'm not neglecting myself. Rather, the comeuppance of hope is the source of my happiness! And I'm sure that would be the same, if everyone were to realize - "  
  
"You believe you're doing good? You actually, truly believe that? When you've attempted murder, purposely cause conflicts, almost killed yourself... and all the countless other things I've missed? You've harmed so many people... and yourself too."  
  
"You don't have to be such a worrywart over me," Nagito murmured. "My state of matters is not relevant."  
  
Hajime groaned. "God! I probably shouldn't have rebuffed your beliefs as much as I did, but you literally do the same to everyone else! Take the time to process what we're saying!"  
  
Nagito didn't respond. He was poker-faced.  
  
_Who am I talking to, a toddler without his damn pacifier?_ _  
__  
_ Hajime closed his eyes and breathed. He shouldn't let his temper overcome him.  
  
Nagito acted like this because he didn't want his mindset to be destroyed. He didn't want to admit that the things he clung so closely to were wrong.  
  
Hajime didn't want to break him. He just needed to get across that he needed to have awareness.  
  
They should stop pretending a transparent pane was separating them. They've looked at their actions from other side, but never took the chance to crack the obstruction in between them. By remaining on either side of the pane, they were unable to see why they made their decisions. All they did was glance through the pane, scowling at and ridiculing the other for being different.  
  
Nagito inadvertently told him this - that he had to listen - and he should return the favor.  
  
He reopened his eyes.  
  
"Nagito. The people who talk around you aren’t just white noise. The world isn’t a huge backdrop for you to ignore,” his voice sounded insecure, but it was better than yelling in anger. "You might think that certain methods work best, but there's people that will disagree with you, and you need to talk to them about it. People have voices to communicate, not just to shout about stuff that's only in their interest. And I'm at fault for not knowing this too. Honestly… let’s both stop being distracted idiots. We need to look at each other, straight on.”  
  
Nagito stared at the flower petals slowly undulating in the glass. Still no answer.  
  
Hajime was running out of convincing words, concerned that he was never going to be able to get him to speak. He was never good at making coherent speeches. Debates were his forte, with all the energy and shouting he had to do. The ponderous nature of speeches failed to mix well with him.  
  
He hoped he did the right things to crack down Nagito's secrecy.  
  
He always had to exert his brain in order to keep up with him, and this one time has been more taxing than all the others.  
  
While he wanted the time to talk to him about things, what was more pressing at the moment was the glass. He and Nagito kept touching the table intentionally or unintentionally, making the liquid in the glass shudder and swivel, like it was mocking them. Hajime didn't understand what it was, nor its reason for existing. And it would be impossible to know these things if Nagito kept closing himself off.  
  
Hajime noticed him gesturing at the empty seat across from him. Nagito let out a big sigh.  
  
“Hajime, you’ve been standing all this time. I’m not coughing out anything weird so I don't need you to tend to me like you're my caretaker.”  
  
Hajime's ears picked up on something - he didn't know how he identified this, but the thought popped into his head once Nagito finished his command.  
  
His voice was absent of derision or arrogance, which was how he always seemed to speak to others.  
  
Hajime pulled out his chair to sit down. He began to squint his eyes in preparation for the glaring sunlight from before to damage his eyesight, but he didn't have to. The sun's position in the sky was different, due to how long they've been in the dining room. He was also a comfortable distance away from the prickly plant that made his skin itch, which made for a much more comfortable seating arrangement. He was too stiff when their meeting began, so he didn't feel the dire to move away from the plant, in case Nagito were to make fun of him for something so petty.  
  
He also felt no immediate discomfort when sitting across from Nagito. It was an odd feeling, but he could get used to it.  
  
"Being at the same level as someone is desirable for cooperation. We're about the same height, which makes this more effective if we're both sitting," with a grin, Nagito added on, "Even if I'm slightly taller."  
  
"Are you... trying to be funny?"  
  
"What's so funny about me being taller than you? Or... maybe you're offended that I have dominion over a small portion of height you're unable to reach?"  
  
Hajime looked at him incredulously, and Nagito laughed.  
  
"I can't believe you have the audacity to make jokes right now," Hajime said this, but he realized that Nagito probably did this to break the tension between them. He remembered that all the way back to the beginning of their time on the island, Nagito always did this to calm his nerves. It was a little comforting to have this be practiced again, when all the other times afterward, Nagito usually acted as a comic to be aggravating on purpose. He wondered if this meant that they should treat each other as they did when they first met.  
  
With apprehension, Hajime asked, "So... did I change your mind or not?"  
  
"You always make me change my mind," he answered. "Somehow, you flick the switches in my brain more often than I do."  
  
Hajime leaned his head to the side. His answer wasn't as straightforward as he wanted it to be, and when Nagito saw that Hajime was conveying this with his expression, it prompted him to append to his answer:  
  
"Yes, you did. I haven't had enough time to fully digest your words, but… it certainly has my gears turning. It'll do me good to be a better listener as well."  
  
He smiled at Hajime, and he returned with his own smile.  
  
Hajime felt weights lifted off of his shoulders - but an overused metaphor wouldn't be enough to describe it. He felt like an Atlas who was unfit to carry earth in his palms, but from then on the planet was levered upward by a gargantuan, galactic crane so that he didn't have to cripple his upper body anymore.  
  
He was fine with thinking differently than him. At least from now on, they wouldn't have to perform their almost ceaseless, tacit melee.  
  
"Hajime. I have decided something that I think will be for the good of both of us," he placed his hands together on the table, similar to a businessman, "because you're genuinely curious... I'll tell you about my condition. But it won't do any good if I explain it outright... I'll supply some information, but you'll have to figure out some of the blanks. Kind of like how you always do during class trials."  
  
"Wait... but what's the point in doing it like that if I'll know in the end anyway?"  
  
Nagito fully ignored his confusion. "Don't worry, I know you can do it. You're capable enough, unless a few of your brain cells popped recently."  
  
Hajime sighed. He's really making me do this? What is he trying to accomplish?  
  
Then again, this was Nagito he was talking to. He convinced him of being more sympathetic, but he doubted he would ever be able to make him give up the Machiavellian in his personality. No matter what, Nagito would always be the one holding the bait over his head, leading him to go in circles over and over again.  
  
Nagito placed his hands around his own neck gently and closed his eyes, momentarily doing this as he spoke for effect. "What's been ailing me is a disease. It wouldn't be any regular sickness, because nothing normal would have me coughing up what's in that glass."  
  
Hajime's eyes trailed back towards the glass. "Disease... but you were cured from the Despair Disease a long time ago."  
  
"No, this is something completely different. But I'd say more symptoms surfaced around that time period."  
  
"More symptoms... so you had this disease for a while."  
  
"That's correct. I've been cursed with this disease because of my presence on the island, actually. If I never came to Hope's Peak, maybe I wouldn't be this close to death. Though I can't say I've been a large distance away from the grim reaper before coming here."  
  
"It's hard to believe that Monokuma would let a disease like that infect any of us. He's so adamant on keeping us alive if it has nothing to do with murders."  
  
"The answer to that has eluded me. It makes me wonder why he hasn't thrown me into the hospital again."  
  
Hajime thought something was odd about that statement, so he made a mental note to remember it for later.  
  
Nagito went on. "I'm quite surprised that I've stayed alive for this long, though. I've lost a lot of my blood, a little or a lot every single day. Any normal person should be dead, based on the amount I've expelled. There's no logical explanation for it, but the best thing I can come up with is that the force keeping me alive is - "  
  
"Your luck?" Hajime finished. Nagito had told him about his "luck cycle," and that what happened in his life hinged on it. How it worked confused him, but he couldn't refute it outright, since Nagito has gone through many low probability events on the island.  
  
"Yes. Or it could be the disease wanting to keep me alive in order to torture me," he chuckled, which was a little disturbing to Hajime, "I feel as if the disease has become its own entity. It's not like a brainless bacteria that spreads, with its only purpose to continue reproducing. It's like something crawling within me, picking the worst moments to cause disruptions to poke away at my sanity."  
  
"Speaking of which, your disease doesn't even seem plausible. Those... are flower petals, right? Did you eat something bad that I don't want to know about? Or is it an actual part of the disease? Do you have any idea how it started?"  
  
"I wonder..." as he said this, Nagito laid one of his hands against his cheek, narrowing his eyes intently at Hajime, with a playful smirk plastered on.  
  
Hajime slightly leaned back, puzzled by the intensity of Nagito's gaze on him. But a few seconds later of this impromptu staring contest made him realize the purpose of the gesture.  
  
"You... you're implying that I know the answer."  
  
Nagito shrugged. "Even if you aren't an Ultimate, I still believe you have the capability to figure this out."  
  
Hajime glowered, and Nagito gave that same sly look he always gave when Hajime was irritated by him.  
_  
_ _Time to knowledge dive, I guess. Do I actually know the answer? How would I?_  
  
Hajime thought back to all of the times he interacted, or even saw Nagito during their time on the island. Human memory was never the most reliable source for information, but it never hurt to plunge into them, as it has helped them in class trials many times in the past.  
  
But before, Hajime always tried to minimize interactions with him as much as possible. He used to always try to avoid taking in any of Nagito’s responses to anything, because he always felt that whatever he did would rouse him up. That boy was a personified controversy, the perfect definition of implosion, to the point of convincing everyone that any little thing he did could be the start of some dangerous machination.  
  
And being on the island always presented him with new things to constantly ponder over and be busied with, like keeping in contact with his classmates and being cautious of Monokuma's machinations. Of course, when Nagito was the one wild card, it's not like Hajime wanted to be around him frequently. He barely remembered the times they spent with each other alone - all he could remember from those occasional moments was having to put his brain into hyper-drive, being always wary of Nagito's intentions. That meant Hajime had to pick from an assortment of memories that didn't stand out to him.  
  
Did he remember any time when Nagito had weirder behavior than he already had? Anything suspicious at all?  
  
"I... can't think of anything exact. But I have an idea. Maybe your disease is reactionary. I never noticed at first, but now that I try to remember... I think there's a certain pattern your disease followed. I can't really figure it out though, since I don't have firsthand accounts of it, except for just now. I think this since you left a few times when we were all together, usually covering your mouth, but that's the only evidence I have for that."  
  
"I shouldn't have expected you to recall specific details from your memory. But you did well to remember some things, and you even hypothesized correctly that my disease is reactionary! If you're unable to delve into your memory for any more evidence, I can push you in the right direction. With the information I'm going to tell you, you might be able to connect the dots. Listen carefully, okay?"  
  
Hajime nodded, but with apprehension. He wanted to know, yet... there was a thought that tugged and pulled at him, telling him that he didn't.  
  
He was sure Nagito wouldn't stop talking now, even if Hajime kicked and screamed for him to stop. Nagito always did things his own way, and now that they both came to an agreement to finally talk to each other honestly, he wouldn't want to hold back and break this contract.  
  
"To prelude this, it's a little embarrassing, but I'll still say it. I didn't realize I had the disease until much later. I put so much trust into my deductive abilities, but I denied that there was anything wrong with me, even though there was. After I was released from the clutches of the Despair Disease, I went to the library to see if there was anything on the residual illness I had. I found out that it was called the Hanahaki Disease. Like you've just witnessed, it causes me to cough up flower petals. It's become so frequent, it's made me delirious. I can't focus on anything else except this ridiculous disease. As you've said... the entire basis of this disease is it being reactionary. So now I will tell you what having Hanahaki means. In turn for this piece of information, you will tell me what has been causing me to cough so much."  
  
_Those two aren't the same?_ Hajime frowned, but continued to listen.  
  
Nagito traced his finger over the side of the glass that was still sitting on the table, and this made Hajime wonder why he hadn't thrown its liquid contents into the sink. Even Nagito asked him to do this earlier.  
  
It didn't really come to mind until now, but watching the subtle movements of the blood and saliva infused water was unnerving. It was obviously disgusting to keep that thing resting between the two of them as they spoke, but he just couldn't interrupt their conversation to dispose of it.  
  
"Hajime, I'm in a regretful state of manners. I have fallen prey to something incomprehensibly bad. You might find it hard to believe. I couldn't either, but I eventually learn to accept that it was the truth. I'll describe, and you can answer with what you think my predicament is. My stomach's been in knots, and my face would become flushed, distressfully so. At times my heart would race, and I wouldn't care if this bothered me, because the origin of these bodily reactions makes me giddy to be alive! These all aren't part of the disease, but part of the reason I've been affected by it. What do you think?"  
  
This might have just been from Hajime being too used to repulsion at Nagito, but he could never imagine Nagito was capable of that.  
  
The entire time they spent on the island, he saw that Nagito dedicated his entire being to the usurpation of hope, not caring about much else. It was odd for him to be subservient to a concept, and because of this, it was unbelievable that...  
  
"You've... fallen in love with someone?"  
  
"Correct," Nagito nodded. "To make matters worse, it is an extreme case of unrequited love. It is so unrequited that I had to be infected by a disease, causing me to cough every time I feel my love strays further from me, removing any possibility of us ever uniting together... every feeling of envy, stress, and depression contributing to the deterioration of my health. In other terms, Hanahaki is caused by unrequited love, and the worse the situation between the infatuated and their desired one, the stronger the symptoms of the disease."  
  
"That's not true though, isn't it?" It was too ludicrous. It was another one of Nagito's jokes. "How could you fall in love with someone when there's the killing game to worry about? It's pessimistic to say, but none of us should be seriously thinking about dating each other until we get out of here. It's too dangerous to start liking someone now, it'd probably make you think irrationally. You... do know that, right?"  
  
"You're saying that like I can control these feelings. I'm well aware of the idiocy of loving someone during the killing game," Nagito seemed a little annoyed that Hajime would question this, especially after their vow to honesty. But he looked jubilant to move on, as he straightened in his chair and leaned onto the table to show his interest. "Since you know this, I'll have you tell me which person out of the fifteen others I've come to have affections for."  
  
"You're kidding."  
  
"No, I'm not. I've told you that you should know why I have this disease. If I were you, I would've figured it out by now. I've given you enough hints."  
  
Hajime rolled his eyes. Nagito tapped his fingers on the table expectantly, awaiting his response with eager.  
  
When he thought about it, what kind of person would Nagito fall in love with? It was a question Hajime never thought he would be speculating the answer on.  
  
Would it be anyone who's alive? None of them intentionally tried to appeal to Nagito, preferring to stay far away from him. Nagito even began to repel himself from them after they escaped the Funhouses. So was it not one of them?  
  
He couldn't rule out those who were dead, since they would still fit the criteria of being an unrequited love. Then again, wouldn't he dislike the murderers and victims for lacking hope? Should having hope in Nagito's eyes be a contributing factor, though?  
  
Going back to what they established about the disease, it was reactionary, and would cause Nagito to cough whenever he saw that he grew further apart from the person he liked. Relying on this information might be the key.  
  
As he thought about this, a jumble of memories surfaced in his head.  
  
When Hajime laughed with his classmates to temporarily forget the killing game, the island, and everything else, Nagito was still suffering in a different manner. He always ran off with his sleeve covering his mouth, hiding his sporadically puffing cheeks from sight so no one would know about him coughing. And he eyed just about the same someone every time.  
  
And when they weren't with the others, the only people present being him and Nagito, whether they were together through inconvenience or because they reluctantly lumped together for some reason, their interactions almost always ended in Nagito leaving. Even quicker than Hajime could, despite him being more eager to end their moments together.  
  
It was contradictory, as Nagito enjoyed spending time with him. He glowed in joy when Hajime was around. If they did something to waste the day away or disagreed and argued, either one contributed to his happiness. He didn't know if it was his memory toying with him, but... it was almost like Nagito was more elated to be with him than talking about hope.  
  
It was almost like the one causing his illness was...  
  
_No, it couldn't be._  
  
"Can you really not figure it out?" Nagito frowned. "That... makes me a little sad. I don't have the confidence to confess, but I cannot display any subtle signs either. This person is characteristically dense so even now, they wouldn't know I've been admiring them for the longest time. It's like they're blind to what's right in front of them."  
  
He paused. "Actually, by the look on your face... you know who it is."  
  
Hajime's heart pulsed in his chest, almost paining him. "You're... being serious?"  
  
Nagito’s hands immediately went to cover his mouth.  
  
Hajime was about to get another glass of water for him, but when Nagito's coughs subsided, he placed a hand up to stop him from leaving. Both of his palms were splattered with blood and petals.  
  
"Don't, it's alright," Nagito wiped his hands onto his jacket, further decorating it with the red patterns of his blood. He wavered in his seat, his eyes losing focus.  
  
Hajime stood. "No, it's not. You're dying. You're going to die if we don't get help. We need to get you to the hospital."  
  
"Help? There's no help for me. There's no cure for Hanahaki."  
  
"Don't lie to me!" Hajime slammed his hand against the table. "The way you explained it... how the disease was painful, yet you dealt with it anyway... makes it seem like you made yourself go through it. You said that Monokuma never went out of his way to fix you, but you didn't go and help yourself by asking? There is a cure, and you refuse to take it!"  
  
"Scary! Okay, okay, I could have gotten surgery. Apparently the flower petals I cough up are from this plant that grows inside me, and will eventually clog up the body's systems until it's unable to work anymore, so I would be rid of the disease if the plant is removed," Nagito slumped in his seat. "You're really close. Could you stop trying to threaten me? I'm the victim of a sickness here - "  
  
He didn't back off and slammed the table again. "Then why didn't you get a surgery?"  
  
Nagito hit the table in retaliation, and stood up as well, moving his face close enough to Hajime that he could smell rancid odor of his blood, and declared: "Because that meant I would've stopped loving you!"  
  
Hajime held his breath.    
  
"That was the extent of my love for you. Isn't that... isn't that pathetic?"  
  
Hajime stepped back from him, bewildered. "Nagito... why me?"  
  
"I know you're confused. I should really despise you. You refused to believe you're inferior to the Ultimates. I shouldn't be able to tolerate your presence on this island. What you are... what you represent outside of Jabberwock... is unforgivable. Yet..." he placed his hands over his heart, "I loved you all this time. I wished for the day when we could hold hands for just once. This is my one and only selfish desire. But I knew you'd never return my feelings. Why would you? The more time I spent with you the more distanced we would get. It was inevitable. I wish I could say that it happened unintentionally. It could have been hormones. Or maybe Cupid's arrow shot me. But it was none of those. It was so much more... it's because you're Hajime Hinata. That was enough to make me fall for you."  
  
Hajime said nothing.  
  
"You... probably don't want me to die since that'll cause complications in the killing game, so I'll tell you about the other cure. I'm sure you'll take a phrase I've spoken and use it against me to prove that I was hiding the other cure, so I might as well tell you. But I know it won't work," he crossed his arms sternly. "Let me ask you... would you actually fall in love with someone like me? If you genuinely return my feelings, then I won't die."  
  
Nagito was smiling. He shouldn't be.  
  
Why did he prioritize his feelings over his life? Did his feelings for Hajime really matter that much, that he would suffer in order to keep them?  
  
He didn't have to do this to himself.  
  
And with that question, was he trying to torture himself further? He knew the answer.  
  
"I can't." He almost apologized, but he thought to himself that he had nothing to apologize for. Nothing was his fault, he shouldn't feel guilty for his honest emotions.  
  
But that sinking feeling in his chest... _what was that?_  
  
"That's alright. I could never force you. I honestly thought that if I tried to push the time I had left to live, maybe I could have made things work. But I failed." He placed his hands over his forehead, defeated. "This is so stupid... I should've gotten the traitor to murder me when I had the chance. But now I'm wasting all I've worked for... because I love you?"  
  
Hajime's head hurt. This was too much for him.  
  
He reached for Hajime's shoulders and softly placed his hands onto them. He faced the floor, his mounds of hair flowing downward to cover his entire visage. He whispered.  
  
"I wish I could have fallen in love with you properly."  
  
Hajime didn't feel anything when he said that. He lacked the emotional response for such a weighted confession - his chest was a pit, the emptiness of it never-ending.  
  
All because he was unable to return Nagito's feelings.  
  
Nagito suddenly leaned forward and crashed into Hajime, sending them both onto the floor. Pain reverberated through Hajime's legs when the bottom half of his body fell onto the floor.  
  
Nagito laid on top of him, and he felt warmth around his left shoulder. He looked down to Nagito, who was weakly coughing. Budded flowers flew out of his mouth, along with splotches of blood, some of the mess stuck onto and stained Hajime's white shirt.  
  
Until then, Hajime never witnessed the disease first hand, which made him clueless about how it affected Nagito physically. But with how close they were to each other, he could feel his short breaths, languid strength, his slowing, fleeting heartbeat.  
  
His body was ice cold, like a husk.  
  
It felt like...  
  
He was _dying._  
  
Hajime shook him gently, trying to push him so he could get up on his feet. He also spoke quietly - if he spoke any louder, he felt his volume would somehow shatter Nagito, hurting him further. "Nagito... get up. We need to leave. We need to go to the hospital. You're not going to make it, come on..."  
  
He didn't budge. He wouldn't budge.  
  
He didn't want to.  
  
"My last lucky performance is finally telling you my feelings... but in return I get to die," flowers began pushing up from his throat as he spoke, making it harder for him to speak. "I don't want to go. I just... want to be with you."  
  
"You don't need to have a dramatic death, stop monologuing like that. You can still be with me if you get the surgery. We're going _now_."  
  
Hajime wrapped his arms around Nagito's body to get him up. But Nagito was uncooperative, using none of his muscles and weighing the both of them down. Hajime should have been able to pick him up, but it was as if Nagito's lack of consent prevented him. His body sank into him, his head pressing onto his shoulder, and every other limb locking, rendering him motionless.  
  
"Ugh... don't worry we're getting there soon - _hey -_ "  
  
Nagito's hands gripped onto Hajime, one digging into his back, and the other pulling at his hair. He made horrible gagging noises, yanking Hajime's hair with every one omitted.  
  
Hajime moved Nagito away from him so he could see his face.  
  
He was choking.  
  
Nagito held his mouth open, and Hajime saw growing flowers edging around the walls of his palate. They were blooming from deep, deep within.  
  
"No, no no no nononono," Hajime tried to pick Nagito up again, but once more, he didn't want to move. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he forced his terribly average muscles, Hajime couldn't lift him. He stopped exerting himself, and sat back on the floor.  
  
He and Nagito gazed at each other. Nagito had removed his arms from Hajime and grabbed at the left side of his own chest. Hajime was annoyed at his refusal to get help, but as he stared, he saw melancholy in Nagito's eyes.  
  
He didn't want to die.  
  
But he felt like he had to because of the circumstances that lead up to this.  
_  
_ _Just let me help you. Why are you doing this?_  
  
Hajime wanted to shout profanities at him so he could finally fall off of his high horse.  
  
He always embezzled information so tirelessly, all of his actions flooded with his ceaseless arrogance. He made it so that any moment in time he affected would end in his favor. Didn’t they agree that he’d stop doing this, though? Or him complying with the suggestion was part of a ploy to lead to this horrid conclusion.  
  
Liar.  
  
Damn _liar._  
  
Hajime was brought out of his daze by Nagito, who touched a folded piece of paper against his cheek. His voice was course, barely recognizable as it's usual soft intonation. "H-Hajime... if you truly advocate for hope... please read this..."  
  
"You're still going on about that?” He ignored the edges of the paper pricking his skin. “Don’t be stupid! I can’t believe you!”  
  
"Only you'd say that... to someone who's dying," Nagito’s breaths were fleeting. "That's why I..."  
  
...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
You what?  
  
You _what?_  
  
...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
The flowers were pinned all around the walls of his mouth. How they almost appeared to look woven along his roof and inner cheeks made Hajime think of an arched trellis. Overflowed with the plants, there was no room for much else except for their abundance.  
  
But soon they were going to wilt. They were no longer surrounded by the life that was necessary to keep them alive.  
  
  
...  
  
_Why even start to say something when you’re not going to finish it?_

* * *

  
  
A body has been discovered.  
  
No announcement took place, as it hasn't been seen by at least three students. Only one.  
  
He positioned the corpse more comfortably, even if it wouldn't be able to react to the new arrangement - he placed its head on his lap and laid the rest of it neatly beside him.  
  
Hajime looked at the flowers that traced over Nagito's lips, incredulous that he'd never hear him ramble about his nonsense ever again.  
  
He sighed.  
  
In his hand was the note Nagito gave him. That boy, even in the end, was still anxious about accomplishing his troublesome schemes.  
  
He almost didn't read it. But these were Nagito's last words. It didn't matter what the message entailed - they belonged to _him_.  
  
He opened the note and was greeted with something he hadn't seen in a while - Nagito's absolutely hideous and blocky handwriting. He found it absurd that a person could maneuver their pencil to make letters look like that.  
  
On the paper, it said:  
  
" _If I gave you this note, that probably means I have been beaten by the Hanahaki Disease._ _  
__  
_ _I wonder if I confessed? Even as I'm writing this, this is one outcome I can't predict. This disease has meddled with my head for so long that I can't think straight anymore._ _  
__  
_ _But none of that matters anymore. I'm dead. This will be my last effort to try to spin everything in my favor._ _  
__  
_ _Originally, the plan was for myself to be murdered by the traitor. Of course, the reason I called you was to ask for your assistance. Though you already saw how that ended up._ _  
__  
_ _I would like you to inherit this plan. Below this I'll have the details - follow them to a T if you wish._ _  
__  
_ _You may be wondering why I want to carry through with this plan. If you are curious, I'm allowing you access into my dorm - just ask Monokuma.There you will find the things I found in the Final Dead Room, and you will understand._ _  
__  
_ _Even though it might not seem like it, this plan may be in your best interest, and I'm not saying this because of my desires to enact it. I fear that if my body is found, you'll be suspected for my murder. This may happen, or you can sacrifice yourself for a greater cause. Please keep this in mind._ _  
__  
_ _I would suggest temporarily hiding my body someplace if you plan to follow through with my wishes. Then no one would suspect I am dead. I also recommend washing or disposing of your clothes in case I've gotten blood on you. Showering immediately is also advisable, and remember to dispose of loose flowers._ _  
__  
_ _One last thing before I end this note._ _  
__  
_ _Whether you decide to heed my plan or not... I hope that my feelings have reached you._ "  
  
"That's a nice looking corpse you have there!"  
  
"GAH!"  
  
Hajime's entire body flinched, which made Nagito's head slide off of his legs and onto the floor.  
  
"What the hell did you do that for?!"  
  
"Just wanted to visit the crime scene for our next class trial. Upupu!" Monokuma jumped onto Hajime's back and held onto his shoulders, looking on at the lifeless husk lying on the ground.  
  
"Did you... know about this? Why didn't you help him? When Fuyuhiko and Nekomaru were dying, you stepped in! Why was he the exception?"  
  
Monokuma bobbed his head side to side playfully, like it took him a while to grab at his answer. "Well... I would've nursed him back to health if he was never meant to die, like the two you mentioned."  
  
"What...?"  
  
"Technically... this is a murder. You _killed_ him."  
  
"What the hell? I didn't..."  
  
"All this time, you were slowly plucking the flower petals of his life away. The farther you went away from him, the more lethal his disease became. He's been coughing and coughing up those flowers for a very long time. He's all bones and no muscle, but he really did show off how strong he was whenever he was out with you guys. He had to shut his mouth if he felt like letting all those petals out! It would've been tragic to find out he had a disease caused by unrequited love. Oh, why didn't you just love him, Hajime!"  
  
Monokuma cackled into Hajime's ear. The laughs stung him and he felt like his eardrums were about to burst.  
  
But he didn't push that bear away.  
  
He sat there on the floor. He put Nagito's fragile head back onto his lap.  
  
"Hey, hey Hajime. Are you thinking about how you're going to get away with it?" Monokuma pinched Hajime's cheeks. "You should stage it as a suicide. Take his shoes off and drop him from high up. Stab something into him. Make it look like he drowned! Clean up those flowers too... maybe you could give them to someone else on the island. Someone else who you actually like, more than this dead loser."  
  
Hajime glared. "You're fucking disgusting."  
  
"Oh, I know I am!” Monokuma hopped off his back and bounced onto the floor. “Be careful, Hajime. One wrong step and you'll be offed too. G'bye, then!"  
  
Monokuma nodded off elsewhere - whenever he appeared and disappeared it was always so sudden.  
  
_Was he really trying to make me think it was my fault? Urgh._  
  
He breathed out.  
  
He wasn't being full of himself. How could he really be blamed for what happened?  
  
But...  
  
He still felt terrible.  
  
Nagito harbored feelings for him in an environment that didn't give him a chance. People their age tended to be especially sensitive when it comes to falling in love, and not only that affected him, but his life was put to an end over something so trivial. He couldn't control his feelings.  
  
It was so unfair.  
  
This was the reason for that haunting feeling Hajime was inundated with all this time.  
  
Maybe if they understood each other earlier, this could have been prevented.  
  
He could have been convinced to do the surgery.  
  
Or maybe if Nagito didn't act like he did during their stay on the island...  
  
And, if Hajime came to like someone like him -  
  
No.  
  
Maybe in another reality. Not once did Hajime see him romantically, during any of the times they've been together.  
  
Hajime kept staring down at him.  
  
Flowers were usually accents of beauty, to make something look more attractive. But all of which that flooded Nagito's mouth made him look hideous.  
  
_Geez..._ _  
__  
_ _What's the next step from here? I have a dead person on my lap..._  
  
If he stayed longer, one of the others might find them.  
  
Fuyuhiko, Souda, Akane, Sonia... what would they think?  
  
What would...  
  
Chiaki think?  
  
They all trusted him. But this trust might break. How much would they really believe him if they saw? Murder would be a more plausible conclusion than a fantastical sickness, and there was already evidence against him, being the meeting and his known relationship with Nagito.  
  
He needed to leave soon.  
  
But he didn't know where to go, what action to take.  
  
_You always knew more. What should I do?_ _  
__  
_ _Not that you would even answer me, in life or death..._  
  
He noticed on the floor nearby the note Nagito wrote for him. He dropped it when Monokuma nearly gave him a heart attack.  
  
He picked it up again.  
  
On it detailed the plan Nagito wanted for him to do, but he still didn't understand Nagito's intentions in the first place. He now knew Nagito wanted to "enlist" him because of the disease, but he never explained the other half of his reason.  
  
Nagito wouldn't base his decisions entirely off of his emotions - and him being bested by Hanahaki didn't matter.  
  
So... maybe he should find out why Nagito wanted to do this.  
  
He wrote that Hajime was allowed to go into his dorm - that all the answers would be in there.  
  
_Even when you’re dead, you're still a pain..._ _  
__  
_ _But I won't get used to you not being here anytime soon._  
  
Hajime hid the body, as well as ridding of any evidence implying death took place.  
  
He departed for Nagito's dorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snhxdlsjdjal it's finally done!! I feel a huge weight off of my shoulders (a weight akin to Hajime's metaphor from the above chapter) 
> 
> what I had trouble with the most in this chapter is writing both Hajime + Nagito's thought processes. I wanted it to make it seem like Hajime wanted to understand the hope meister, while also affirming that he didn't approve of his actions throughout the killing game. 
> 
> I wish I was able to write Nagito as well as the dr writers did in sdr2, I feel like I'll never be able to match their prowess at writing his character asgghg. with him, I wanted him to retain his cunning/mischievous personality... but at the same time, having him suffer changes to his justification behind certain decisions due to Hanahaki.
> 
> because of these troubles with writing them, it took a while for me to write everything in between. from the start I wanted Hajime to conclude that he wanted to go to Nagito's room as his last resort... but I didn't know how to arrive to that spot. I feel like some parts of this chapter are... janky... and I apologize for that. 
> 
> to be honest, the funnest part of this chapter to write was Nagito's note at the end. it was one of the first parts I finished, I think. I feel like my writing is the best in dialogue/narratives and my strong suits are definitely not descriptions. guess that's something I'll have to work on though. 
> 
> so this comes to a close... will Hajime be accused for murder and will have to undergo a class trial for Nagito's unorthodox death? or perhaps he'll go through with Nagito's plan to get the traitor to murder him? or would be succumb to the stress of making a decision and resort to something else...? I dunno!
> 
> hope you liked reading this, and I'm sorry it took me so long to tie up the end -- may Hajime and Nagito get their happy end in a different reality. 
> 
> comments about the story are appreciated, as writers always crave criticism. see you in future fics!

**Author's Note:**

> one of my friends sent me some things about the hanahaki disease, and all I could think of was a komahina version of it (because what other couple have I written?). I was originally going to make this just one chapter, but the format was stressing me out so instead I'm splitting it into three short parts. oh boy.
> 
> ngl this is probably going to turn out really bad since I'm absolutely horrible when it comes to dialogues and emotions. can I write scenery? somewhat. can I write about people? hell no! my peril is never ending...
> 
> soo I'll try to get this done in a few days. because I've been doing this as well as writing two other komahina-esque things (because again, my hands will only let me create things about these two boys aaah), I've been postponing my main fic that I've been working on. for goodness sake I have to be more productive.
> 
> but whatever! next two parts will come out eventually - I know what I'm writing but I just have to do it. thanks for reading, and criticism is really appreciated!


End file.
